Reaching the parts that other music cannot reach; music for the soul.

There can be few of last night’s audience leaving the Laudate Domiunum  concert in St Peter’s Church, Ruddington who did not disappear down the church drive and into the Saturday night Ruddington air humming or whistling – or maybe even singing – one of the musical gems that we had enjoyed from the Ruddington & District Choral Society and the Ruddington Chamber Ensemble. This was a quite magical concert – a treasure trove of  sacred music’s best; from items known and loved by generations of music lovers to a work which, for most of us, was almost certainly quite new. This was a beautifully constructed programme performed by singers and musicians at the top of their respective games.

The concert gets underway

From works that in many ways define the sacred music repertoire – Bach’s Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring, to Mozart’s exquisite Ave Verum Corpus & Laudate Dominum  we moved to  Brahms’ deeply reverential rendering of Psalm 84:  How Lovely Are Thy Dwellings Fair from his German Requiem and thence  to Schubert’s great Mass in G . And, to put the icing on this delightful musical cake, in the midst of these musical masterpieces we enjoyed (if that is the right word for so haunting and deeply felt work) a work that was for me – and I suspect many others – a revelation: Josef Rheinberger’s Stabat Mater  - undoubtedly one of the evening’s many high spots. I don’t think that I was alone in thinking, I’d like to hear more Rheinberger, can I get a CD or stream some of his music through the wonders of modern technology?  And throughout it all the Ruddington Chamber Ensemble provided not only talented and hugely enjoyable accompaniment but an accompaniment that was both sensitive to the choir and soloists and to the nature of the occasion. The Ensemble, too, had their own opportunities to shine – and shine they did – with two of music’s best loved works: Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik  & the Air from Handel’s Water Music Suite.

Soaring sopranos!

So many of the works that we enjoyed are works that many in last night’s appreciative audience will have grown up with; many I am sure appear in Classic FM’s annual top 300 hit parade – but that doesn’t lessen their greatness or their deserved place in the sacred choral music tradition. As I walked  out of the church at the end of the concert I was mentally humming Bach’s Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring – a work that I came across first as a 13 or 14 year old when for reasons known only to Mr Hornby, the school music teacher, (in a decision which still amazes me) he somehow selected me to sing in the school choir at a concert at the Public Hall in my home town, Preston, where I grew up. The event was attended by many school choirs in the town and each had the opportunity to sing two works – our two were Mendelssohn’s O for the Wings of a Dove and Bach’s Jesu Joy of Mans Desiring. I don’t think it was a competition (had it been so then I am sure that I would not have been selected!) but the works stayed with me. Nor did I put myself forward for choir membership because of any great choral or musical love or even knowledge of these two masterpieces – they were complete unknowns. No, my reason for asking to join the choir was much more prosaic, perhaps dubious and the same as that of my several friends who also pleaded their case – there were girls in the choir who we callow, spotty youths wished to impress! But, whatever the reason, one of those works – the Bach - gained a special place in my life that lasts to this day. Shortly after the competition I found, in the storage compartment of the ancient piano stool that sat in front of the second or third hand piano that we had at home, a much used, somewhat grubby and dog-eared piano score for Jesu Joy – it had obviously come with the stool which, I suspect, my mother had bought at a house clearance. I was, at the time, rather unwillingly learning to play the piano and although this was far too difficult for me to play my experience in the choir encouraged me to  stick at it and over the next few months and years I slowly became a little more proficient. Bach’s great work, and indeed all Bach, “stuck” – it has been so for the rest of my life. Throughout my time working in primary schools I would often, if I needed to relax or have a quiet few moments, sit in the hall at playtime or before school and play Jesu Joy on the school piano. The sheet music was not necessary, my fingers by then were on autopilot, occasionally finding the right notes as I produced some kind of Eric Morecambe like “hitting the right notes but not necessarily in the right order” rendering of Bach’s masterpiece. But for me it didn’t matter, I loved the work and as the choir last night sang I was transported back sixty years or more to a time long gone, to that event and experience that, in a small way, made me what and who I am today.

Concentration from the violins!

And this is what all music (be it classical, pop, sacred or heavy metal) can and should do – take us back in our own life to particular events, connect us with life’s joys and tragedies, remind us of our short life's markers, recall long lost friends, or great loves and fulfilled or broken dreams. In short give us a context for our very humanity. And it does something else, equally important; it connects us directly with times that are unknown or long lost to us.  When we hear Mozart or Bach, or Schubert or, when I sat in Nottingham’s Royal Concert Hall on Friday evening being quite overcome by Nottingham’s own son the wonderful young cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason perform arguably the world’s greatest cello concerto – the Elgar – we were hearing exactly the same sounds that people heard years – often centuries before we were born. We were connecting with the ideas, events, feelings and the people of an age long gone.  As Kanneh-Mason played he was taking us directly back to the immediate aftermath of the Great War – apposite in this November month a century after the war ended – and forging a direct link with Elgar and the emotion and sense of loss felt by the composer and wider society following the terrible events between 1914 and 1818. This is important, it gives a context for our own small lives –  reminding us of who we are, where we and where our society has come from - and where, perhaps, it is going. In short, where we fall in the great scheme of things. This is what all music does and it is what last night’s concert in St Peter’s Church did so wonderfully.

The two wonderful young soloists: Rebecca Sarginson 

& James Farmer

One of the problems that I am sure that faces any orchestra, soloist or choir – even the superstar musicians of the great concert platforms – is one of familiarity. When Kanneh-Mason played the Elgar on Friday night to a packed Nottingham Royal centre I would guess that every single member of that audience knew the work almost as well as the performer and consequently will judge it in relation to their own perception or experience of hearing others play it. Was Kanneh-Mason’s rendering as “good” as the Jacqueline du Pre performance of half a century ago -  a performance that has become a classic in its own right. For me, I was judging Friday night’s performance against the Paul Tortelier renderings of the Elgar which for me are sublime. Others will have different ideas. Additionally, as well as personal “taste” there is the inevitable human reaction to pick up on every small detail; after all we “know” the work so well that a wrong note or missed beat or lack of synchronisation or empathy  between soloist, choir or orchestra will be there for all to see and hear – there is little space for the performer to hide! And so it was with Saturday’s concert in St Peter’s – we all knew so many of the works and when that happens then there is, I suspect, an added pressure on the performers not only to bring out something new, something to set their rendering apart and make it special and memorable but for it to be perfectly performed so as not to offend the preconceptions of the listeners.

Praise the Lord- Laudate Dominum!

Last night’s concert fulfilled, for me at least, all these requirements. From the gentle and reverential opening work (Laudate Dominum) to the final bars of the Schubert Mass in G  the singers and players put their own stamp on the works. If there was a common, and  perhaps unintended theme running through the evening it seemed to me to be that these were all calm and reflective pieces and the choir, soloists and orchestra brought this out to perfection. In an increasingly brash world of 24 hour news, Brexit strife, rampant individualism, materialism and inequality, man’s inhumanity to man, instability and uncertainty each of these works had something to say – in Biblical terms it was the “still, small voice of God”. And if you were a non-believer then the works still spoke to you – it was the “still, small voice of calm” in an increasingly mad, mad, mad world.

The two young soloists, mezzo soprano  Rebecca Sarginson and baritone James Farmer blended sympathetically and beautifully with the choir and the orchestra and when, in the Schubert, conductor Paul Hayward unexpectedly turned to the audience and took the tenor part I think everyone in the church was both surprised and delighted. Paul Hayward was a man of many parts: choral conductor, orchestra conductor, organist (a wonderful rendering of Mendelssohn’s Organ Sonata No 3, perfect for the occasion and to get the second half of the programme off to a fine start) and tenor in the Mass. This young choral director pours so much of himself – his enthusiasm, his musical know how, his industry and his commitment - into the choir and their concerts that it is little surprise that the concerts have been so well received under his stewardship. But additionally, the choir has made, and continues to make, huge steps in their performance, breadth of repertoire and sheer choral quality – Paul Hayward can  deservedly take much of the praise for all this. As always, Hayward was more than ably assisted and, I’m sure, advised by accompanist Michael Overbury  whose musical pedigree is impeccable and skills on the keyboard – be it organ, piano or harpsichord - in a league of their own. As he played the Fugue on Bach’s Magnificat  there was  a palpable tension in the church, the audience mesmerised as his fingers danced on the keyboard. This complex work showed off Bach’s and Overbury’s technical brilliance and musicality to perfection – it was little wonder that he received one of the evening’s warmest rounds of applause.

Michael Overbury - the maestro of the organ!

This was an evening of hushed, atmospheric, reverential music;  Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus, although well known to all the audience, was a perfect piece for a November concert in a village church – and the choir’s rendering was one to set the spine tingling. This was continued with a gentle and lyrical rendering of Brahms’ How Lovely Are they Dwellings Fair  and following this, the audience were delighted by the Ensemble’s performance of the Air from Handel’s Water Music. The mellow, warm and richly textured sound produced by  the Ensemble was perfect for both the occasion and the work; even though we sat in a church on a misty November evening I’m sure that many, like me, were transported to a summer evening glide down the Thames listening to Mr Handel conducting his new work for the pleasure of King George I three centuries ago. It was the same with the Ensemble’s second offering the Romanze from Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik: the delicate, precise playing of the Ensemble produced a pure, gentle and relaxing sound, a rendering in keeping with the reflective nature of the other works. This was music to close your eyes to and relax while, at the same time, gently think on great things; if the spirit of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was sitting high amongst the St Peter’s rafters last night I’m sure that he would have approved greatly.

And so to the two major works: Rheinberger’s Stabat Mater and Schubert’s Mass in G. As noted above for many, including me, Rheinberger’s Stabat Mater was an unknown – but what a discovery! The interval conversations over cups of coffee and glasses of wine bore witness to the fact that I was not alone in finding this work a real joy. This hauntingly lyrical work which within it contains a huge range to test both choir and players is music to encourage listeners to ponder and reflect upon life’s great mysteries. Within it are contained some truly lovely melodies, serene passages and moments of power and huge emotion.This allowed the basses and tenors to show their depth, strength and richness while the altos and the sopranos could soar above them. And soar the whole choir did – the sound that they made  a fitting end to the concert’s first half and as the final notes died away one couldn’t help noting the many in the audience turning to their neighbours to express their delight and surprise in this little known but lovely work.

Choir & players in perfect harmony

The well known and joyful opening to Schubert’s Mass set the scene beautifully for a memorable performance by the Ruddington & District and their accompanying Ensemble. Although gentle and reflective in nature the Mass also gives choirs the opportunity to give full voice to their singing – and this they did. The result was that Paul Hayward extracted every last ounce of expression and emotional intensity from his choir – his singers were with him all the way, their faces and voices advertising both their enjoyment and musical input into this great work. The applause at the end was due recognition of not only a superbly performed work but of a hugely successful, enjoyable and lovely evening.

Conductor & choir director Paul Hayward takes on

another role!

But, last night’s concert was not only supremely enjoyable, it was for me – and I hope for others - important. In this brash, uncertain and unstable modern world it seems increasingly that we are losing (maybe have already lost) the willingness to talk about things like virtue, love,  goodness, faith, honour, righteousness or the other dimensions of our inner self that go into making our very basic humanity. In a world obsessed with self and where we increasingly ask only what is it worth, does it work, how much does it cost, or   what’s in it for me we increasingly define our world and our relationships only in pragmatic or economic terms. We have created a gradgrind world where wealth and power are too often the only yardsticks by which people and events are judged. One needs only look at the way in which the Brexit debate has been consistently framed by all politicians to see the truth of this. Never have the politicians driving the debate concerned themselves with the question what kind of people - either individually or nationally - do we want to be: a welcoming, tolerant, open society or a closed, intolerant, isolationist nation? These are not unimportant questions, they go the very fabric of who and what we are both as individuals and a society.  We have not been asked equally important questions: is the proposed Brexit is culturally worthy, socially acceptable, morally justified, in keeping with our responsibilities to those who have gone before us or who will come after us,  or desirable in terms of our wider relationships with our friends in Europe.  No, the name of the game has been only power and economics - will it make us economically richer or poorer, will it give us an economic advantage over other nations? It is the manifestation of our own selfish individual and national ambitions to become richer or more powerful in the world's crude rat race to the top - or, maybe, in reality it is a race to civilization's bottom.  The whole depressing spectacle proves what our society in general and our leaders in particular have become: we know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

In writing this I am reminded of Oliver Goldsmith's great and damning poem The Deserted Village decrying the same national atmosphere that clouded our country in the get rich quick days of the mid eighteenth century when a small aristocratic elite got richer and richer at the expense of the huge mass of the population: this was the age of the Enclosure Acts when common land was "enclosed" by the nation's great families and ordinary workers lost their homes and livelihoods. Forced to leave the land that they had worked for generations they often fled to the growing towns seeking work the great factories and mills of the growing industrial revolution. There they fell prey to unscrupulous mill owners and the spiral downwards continued:famine stalked the land, obscene poverty was rife and insurrection  imminent. Against this backdrop Goldsmith wrote in his searing poetic commentary:"Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay". Quite. 

Ready for the second half to begin - we await our conductor!

And today, as then, the only game in town is the acquisition of wealth and power; society can no longer be bothered or interested in asking the great, unanswerable questions: who am I, why am I here, what’s life about, how should I act, what’s the right thing to do? We less and less talk of ideals and instead talk more of ambitions, thus prioritising personal wants over  humanitarian deeds and human thought and action. The President of America, arguably the most powerful  man in the world (not the wisest, or most devout, or most humble, or most thoughtful President - American voters have moved on from these real qualities and qualifications for national leader when they moved on from Obama), pours forth drivel of enormous proportions such as "I think if this country gets any kinder or gentler, it's literally going to cease to exist." and millions vote for him. These same people - and others - see nothing wrong when he talks of “beautiful deals” with little or no awareness of what the word beauty implies. The nonsensical drivel that Trump espouses is, it seems, endless but he should not be judged too harshly - he is not the cause but merely the symptom. Flick through any social media platform and one will read mind numbingly banal posts from otherwise perfectly "intelligent" people: on Facebook as I look at my mobile phone screen at this moment I am reading two memes:"Stay calm, eat cake" and "Why is it that meteors always land in craters" - these being passed on as profound wisdom or insightful commentary. We truly are in a race to the bottom; we have become increasingly uncaring in our use of language and consequently in our thoughts.  No longer, do we consider what we say and how we say it. No longer, I fear, do we ask is an idea or thought or action good or worthy or decent or just or of good report or any of the other facets of humanity that make us who and what we are and what we might or should be; we simply reflect back the brash, pragmatic, banal and increasingly non-sensical world that we are creating and inhabit.

Reaching the climax!

So, as we race to the bottom last night’s concert and the music chosen for the programme was an important and timely reminder; not only did it remind us of these essential and deeply personal aspects of our humanity but it also reminded us of the importance of calm reflective thought, of beauty, of reverence, and of recharging the human spirit. Music can elate, enrich, sadden, inspire, deepen one’s understanding of the world and mankind; it can provide huge solace or great joy at important moments in our lives. As the old lager advert once said “It reaches the parts that the other beers can’t reach” – well last night’s concert did just that and more: the music and the programme last night reached the inner-most parts of our humanity, our souls  that perhaps many other  works might not have  reached!

Applause all round for a wonderful and inspiring programe & performance

For as long as there have been men and women on the planet they have made music and they have pondered the great mysteries of life. The music that we enjoyed in St Peter’s last night in a small way enabled us to continue this age old examination of ourselves; in the words of St Paul’s letter to the Philippians, to “think on these things”; to without embarrassment or fear of being thought old fashioned or "out of touch" with the "real world" to think great thoughts, talk of beauty and decency and love and virtue, to ask the questions that we need to occasionally ask of ourselves: who am I, what am I doing here, what is the right thing to do, what is really important in life?  Indeed, St Paul’s words would have been a perfect sub title for last night’s concert; they would have captured not only the unwritten theme of the programme but the measure of the performance: “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things”.

So, thank you Ruddington & District Choral Society, Ruddington Chamber Ensemble, Rebecca Sarginson, James Farmer, Michael Overbury and Paul Hayward – you gave us so much more than two hours of nice music.  You gave us music to Praise the Lord - Laudate Dominum  and in doing so an opportunity to refresh the soul, recharge the spiritual batteries and re-engage with our inner humanity in these dark, uncertain and worrying times.